


Qui Vivra Verra

by kira892



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, lowkey illegal fighter au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 03:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18864763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kira892/pseuds/kira892
Summary: Tsukki hums, seemingly disinterested. It makes Tadashi feel terribly fond, watching him do something as simple as lean against a wall with his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats. They’re pushing twenty seven now and Tsukki’s default expression still looks as bored and haughty as it did at seventeen. It’s probably something he’ll never grow out of.“I’m sorry for keeping you up.” Tadashi says and means it, rubbing the back of his neck.“Don’t be stupid. How can you keep me up if you’re not even here?” Tsukki says dismissively and this at least, Tadashi knows is different. 	Tsukki rarely bothered with anything but the truth when they were younger. He doesn’t say anything about it though, dutifully ignoring the dark circles under Tsukki’s eyes and the smell of cheap, strong coffee filling the apartment. They’ve already had that fight, Tsukki hates it when he apologizes.





	Qui Vivra Verra

**Author's Note:**

> _Qui Vivra Verra_ [French Proverb] He who lives shall see. The future will tell.

 

It was cold, so cold.

 

He huddles as much into himself as he can, fists balled into the pockets of his coat and face tucked as far down his collar as possible. He thinks maybe his toes are curled up in his old, cracked boots. He doesn’t remember how long it’s been since he last felt them. The trains along his line are out of commission due to the weather and he had to get off two stations over and trek through the snow the rest of the way home. 

 

He was so cold his  _ bones _ hurt.

 

Or maybe his bones hurt because some of them are broken. 

 

The thought is flat, just a tiny bit exasperated and sounds entirely like someone else and Tadashi smiles to himself, wincing afterward when the movement simultaneously pulls at the split corner of his lip and the swollen bump on his cheekbone. He exhales through his nose slowly and eyes the heaps of snow along the sidewalk, resisting the urge to kneel on the ground and shove his face in. He can totally get away with it too, the entire block is completely deserted. 

 

He manages to restrain himself though, grimacing at the scattered spots of yellow and the big blotches of dirty gray splashed over the white. City snow is so gross.  

 

He fumbles with his keys when he gets to his door, dropping them in a pile of snow as soon as he pulls them out of his pocket. With a groan loud enough to wake the dead, Tadashi gingerly drops to a crouch and wastes five whole minutes patting around in the dark for them. The snow soaks into his flimsy, holey gloves and by the time he finally manages to get them back, his hands hurt so much, he can barely move them. He almost,  _ almost _ gives up and knocks. 

 

Most of his knuckles are split open but it would still probably hurt less than having to touch the door knob. But it’s inching past five in the morning, he can’t do that. They both went to bed late last night. He’s going to get in quietly and he isn’t going to wake him. 

 

His efforts are all for naught because the second he gets the key into the lock, he hears the latch slide and then the door is swinging open. 

 

“You’re late.”

 

A bashful smile tugs at his lips before he can help it. A worn reflex, as old and tried as the words.

 

“Sorry Tsukki.” 

 

Tsukki doesn’t say anything but Tadashi doesn’t miss the way his eyes linger on his face, staring with particular intensity at the angry red welt along his cheek before blinking coolly and stepping aside to let Tadashi through.

 

“The trains stopped running.” Tadashi says as he walks past, unzipping his coat.

 

“Why didn’t you call a cab then?” Tsukki asks. 

 

Tadashi can think of at least five good reasons, all of which are either pinned to the fridge and circled in red marker or lost in the sea of receipts and bills on their kitchen table. He’s spent enough time in the last month stressing about them, he can probably recite them forwards and backwards by order of expired due date but he doesn’t. He shrugs. “It wasn’t that far.”

 

Tsukki gets that patented  _ look _ on his face, the one that lets Tadashi know he’s being stupid but he doesn’t call him out on it, just sighs softly through his nose.

 

“Did you win?” He asks instead, leaning against the wall to watch as Tadashi toes his sodden shoes off. Tadashi hisses as he flexes his frozen toes and grins at Tsukki over his shoulder. 

 

“Yup! Good thing too, there were a lot of bets tonight.”

 

Tsukki hums, seemingly disinterested. It makes Tadashi feel terribly fond, watching him do something as simple as lean against a wall with his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats. They’re pushing twenty seven now and Tsukki’s default expression still looks as bored and haughty as it did at seventeen. It’s probably something he’ll never grow out of. 

 

“I’m sorry for keeping you up.” Tadashi says and means it, rubbing the back of his neck. 

 

“Don’t be stupid. How can you keep me up if you’re not even here?” Tsukki says dismissively and this at least, Tadashi knows is different.  Tsukki rarely bothered with anything but the truth when they were younger. He doesn’t say anything about it though, dutifully ignoring the dark circles under Tsukki’s eyes and the smell of cheap, strong coffee filling the apartment. They’ve already had that fight, Tsukki hates it when he apologizes.   

 

“I’m working on a paper.” Tsukki continues, pushing off the wall and turning to walk into the kitchen. The silent expectancy that Tadashi will follow hangs in the air and follow Tadashi does, unzipping his coat and hanging it over the back of one of the two point five chairs at their kitchen table before sitting down with a sigh. The point five is more of a low stool, rickety as hell and standing on three uneven legs. Neither of them even remember where it came from but neither of them are particularly inclined to get rid of it either. 

 

Tsukki shoves it closer to him with a foot and Tadashi blinks. In the few seconds he hadn’t been  paying attention, Tsukki had retrieved an ice pack and their first-aid kit. He settles down on the stool and wordlessly reaches up to put the ice pack to Tadashi’s face.

 

Tadashi takes it with a murmured thanks, dutifully holding it to his cheek with one hand while he lets Tsukki take the other one. He examines it for a moment, assessing the damage. It looks worse than it is, especially after being out in the cold. The skin around the cuts are red and dry, making them look gnarlier than they feel. There’s a particularly nasty one on the second knuckle of his right hand, more of a gouge than a cut and Tadashi suspects it might scar but all in all this is still not even remotely close to the worst he’s gotten. 

 

Tsukki sets his hand down on his knee and opens up the first aid kit. They’d discarded the original box it’d come in. After a month of Tadashi working the rings, the contents  had expanded to nearly three times what it originally was and they had to get something else to hold all of it. What they have now is an industrial tool box, big and bulky. It’s comically big as Tsukki sets it on his unoccupied leg, balancing it with practiced ease as he roots around for some peroxide, cotton pads and band-aids.

Tsukki is exhausted, Tadashi can see it in the slump of his shoulders and the heaviness of his eyelids. But still, he cleans and wraps up his hand without so much as a yawn, making sure each knuckle is thoroughly disinfected and wrapped up tight before doing the same to Tadashi’s other hand.

 

“How was work?” he asks as Tsukki carefully secures a band-aid around his ring finger, strategically sticking one adhesive side diagonally and wrapping it around that way to minimize scrunching and peeling.

 

“It was alright. Had to stay an extra three hours because someone felt sick and got sent home early.” 

 

Tadashi frows, trying to remember Tsukki’s schedule and doing the math. It’s Tuesday, the last time he checked the dry erase calendar stuck to the fridge, Tsukki had an 8 to 3 shift at the bookstore. “Didn’t you have class at 7 though?”

 

“I only missed the first half hour of the lecture. I’m sure I didn’t miss much. I don’t have a lot of hours at the library this week so making the extra money was nice.” 

 

Tadashi’s frown deepens and he opens his mouth to speak but then Tsukki pauses, getting to the deep cut on his middle knuckle and Tadashi automatically answers, momentarily forgetting his own worry when Tsukki looks up at him with one eyebrow raised. 

 

“I think I scraped it on a  tooth.”

 

“Yours or someone else’s?” Tsukki asks, spritzing the cut with extra peroxide, pausing and then spritzing it some more. 

 

Tadashi answers through a wince. “The other guy. I think I knocked it loose.”

 

Tsukki hums, foregoing the band-aids and pulling out a roll of gauze. He wraps it across Tadashi’s knuckles, padding the extra damaged knuckle with some more gauze. 

 

“You punched someone’s tooth out? Hot.” Tsukki offers without inflection, brushing some imaginary dust off of Tadashi’s bandaged hand after he’s done. 

 

Tadashi can’t help the small blush that rises to his cheeks even as he laughs. 

 

“Anything broken?” Tsukki asks, setting the first-aid tool box down and standing up.

 

This is routine and Tadashi stands too, still holding the ice pack to his cheek. “Nope.” he says and obediently stays still as Tsukki reaches over and starts gently prodding and poking at him.

 

“Anything bruised?” he asks, feeling along Tadashi’s ribs.

 

“Just skin,” Tadashi winces when Tsukki hits a sore spot just above his navel. 

 

He yelps when Tsukki’s palm brushes against his side and both of them look down as Tsukki lifts the hem of his shirt up and unveils a huge patch of raw, irritated skin. A plethora of shallow scrapes, the skin between them angry and red, forming a big purple-red blotch that starts at Tadashi’s hip bone and nearly stretches all the way up to his ribs. 

 

He’s not even sure how that happened. “I fell.” he offers lamely. He did fall, multiple times, against a chain link cage. But he did also fall on uneven concrete and he isn’t sure which of those would make the dip growing between Tsukki’s eyebrows deeper. 

 

Tsukki purses his lips, eyes darting up to his face, back to the gash and then up at his face again. He touches Tadashi without looking away. It almost seems like he didn’t mean to do it on purpose but Tadashi doubts it’s anything but intentional when Tsukki’s fingers find a particular spot, brushing against the scar curving around his rib.

 

A bad night, more blood than he’d ever lost in his life, a trip to the ER he barely remembers, the first time Tsukki had ever raised his voice.

 

The first time Tadashi had ever seen him afraid. 

 

A tense moment passes and then Tsukki drops his shirt and turns away. He doesn’t say anything because they already had that fight too and the week of strained silence that followed after hurt worse than anything Tadashi’s ever gotten from fighting so far.  

 

“I got the bath ready.” Tsukki says without looking at him and then turns and disappears into their bedroom. 

============================

 

Ice baths help a lot with pain and swelling but the first thirty seconds after being submerged feel like absolute agony. It never got better and especially after his trek through the snow, it had to be Tadashi’s least favorite thing in the world right now but he grits his teeth and steps into the tub with minimal complaint. The tub is about half full, having melted enough to leave an  even fifty-fifty between water and ice and Tadashi eases himself in as slowly as possible, careful not to slosh any over the side and soak the floor. He wonders how Tsukki knew to get one ready for him beforehand, if Tadashi’s been coming home extra beat up lately without noticing and Tsukki just assumed that tonight would be no different. 

 

He sinks down until the ice was up to his chest, huffing breaths like he’s running a marathon then with a murmured “one, two-” he clenches his eyes shut and slides down, submerging all of himself. He stays under for as long as he can stand it and breaks the surface with a gasp, chunks of ice cascading over his face and sliding down his hair. 

 

The door opens so quietly Tadashi doesn’t hear it at all over the sound of ice shifting around with the ripples of water. He jumps when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye and knocks his shoulder against the side of the tub, hard. 

 

“Oww ow owwww!”

 

“Careful.”

 

Tsukki admonishes as if he isn’t entirely responsible for the whole thing. When Tadashi looks up, he sees him shimmying out of his sweats, shirt already off.

 

“Don’t sneak up on me like that.” Tadashi says, hand to his heart. 

 

Tsukki just shrugs, pulling his glasses off his face and folding them carefully by the sink. “Move over.” he says, dipping one foot into the tub. 

 

Tadashi obeys automatically, tucking himself as closely against the foot of the tub as possible, bending his knees and letting his arms hang out the sides to make room. Their tub is barely big enough two fit one grown man, nevermind two but they make it work. 

 

Tadashi watches the pale expanse of Tsukki’s bare back, appreciating the wide breadth of his shoulders and the tautness of his muscles as he lowers himself into the freezing cold water without so much as a hiss. He gets so wrapped up in absently counting the bumps of Tsukki’s spine and seeking out the well hidden freckles along his nape that it doesn’t even occur to Tadashi to ask until after Tsukki is tucked against his front, long fingers wrapping around Tadashi’s knees. 

 

“Tsukki?” he asks, running his palms up and down the goosebumps that have prickled all over Tsukki’s shoulders and down his arms.

 

“Need to stay awake.” Tsukki answers, dipping cupped palms just under the water and splashing some on his face. 

 

“You  _ need  _ to?” Tadashi asks, even as he scoops up handfuls of water himself and starts pouring it over the back of Tsukki’s neck.

 

“I already asked for an extension on this essay, I need to have it done.”

 

“When do you need to turn it in?” Tadashi asks, dropping his mouth to Tsukki’s shoulder and brushing his lips against the goosebumps there, rubbing a thumb against Tsukki’s arm in apology when he shivers. 

 

“I start that new job Thursday, the essay is due the day after.” Tsukki says.

 

His third one. Tadashi frowns, lifting his head. He stretches forward, trying to see Tsukki’s face but for the second time that night Tsukki shuts him down, turning his head and catching Tadashi’s mouth with his. He reaches back with a hand, cupping the back of Tadashi’s head to keep him from pulling away. Tadashi makes a sound of protest that melts into a pathetic little sigh of surrender far too soon. Tsukki kisses him slow and thorough, gently prying Tadashi’s lips open with his tongue and licking at the roof of his mouth.

 

Tadashi groans and with a truly herculean effort, pries himself away. He huffs out a long sigh, resting his chin on Tsukki’s shoulder and gazing at him from inches away. He goes a little cross eyed and combined with the damp hair flattened against his scalp and the technicolor swelling that’s yet to go down on his face, he can only imagine how unappealing of a picture he makes. Still, Tsukki leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to Tadashi’s forehead. 

 

“You don’t have to do that, I think we can get by.” Tadashi begins, voice small. He’s never been good at arguing with Tsukki when he’s actually being reasonable about something, even if it’s just a little. But he still has to try. Tsukki barely has enough time in the day for himself these days and he seems more and more ragged with every week that passes. Between school and two jobs, Tadashi can practically see the life being squeezed out of him. Things seemed like they might have been going up after Tadashi started fighting but the losses are hard and sometimes even when he wins, the trip to the ER blows a hole right through the money he earned and then some. Maybe if he takes up another job too or if he tries to find more rings to fight in, Tsukki wouldn’t have to work so hard. 

 

“Maybe, but spending so much time around you made my skull too thick.” Tsukki says airily. Then without any warning, he surges forward and plunges his face down into the ice. He stays down for two seconds before slowly straightening up and bracing his hands against the tub. He extricates himself as carefully as he had slipped in, barely sloshing any water out of the sides. He bends down to press one last kiss to the top of Tadashi’s head after stepping onto the bath mat. 

 

“Go to bed after you finish up, I’ll be up for a while.” He commands softly before grabbing a towel and making quick work of patting himself dry. Tadashi makes a vague noise of assent and watches as he pads back out into the living room, naked and damp. 

 

Tadashi stays in the tub for another ten minutes, towels himself dry and with a lot of stiff, awkward movements, gets into an old shirt and some sweatpants.

 

When he emerges into the living room, clearly with no intent to go to bed, Tsukki is entirely unsurprised. He’s redressed himself in a hoodie and an old pair of flannel pants and he doesn’t even look up from whatever he’s doing on his laptop, lifting one arm when Tadashi settles down next to him on the lumpy couch. 

 

Tadashi ducks under it and settles down against Tsukki’s side, pillowing his head in the crook of Tsukki’s shoulder. 

 

“What are you watching?” Tadashi asks, taking in the movie playing out on Tsukki’s screen. It’s a western period piece, going by the huge petticoats and top hats.    

 

“Crimson Peak. My essay is about Gothic Romance as a genre.”

 

Tadashi picks up one of the loose papers scattered on Tsukki’s lap, holding it up to his face and scanning through Tsukki’s neatly composed notes. They’re all in English, which makes sense. Tadashi’s grasp on the language is still a little shaky despite living in America for almost five years years but still, he manages to understand most of it.

 

“Pleasing terror…. romanticizes the past, marriage of love and death... exists somewhere between fairytale and horror and romance.” He reads out loud. “Sounds intense.” he comments, looking to the screen. Based off the time count, Tsukki  barely started. 

 

They’d seen this movie once before, a lifetime ago when they were still teenagers in Miyagi. Tadashi remembers it pretty well, not because he thought of it as a particularly captivating movie but because he’ll never forget how embarrassing and uncomfortable it was, being thirteen and crammed next to Tsukki on his family’s tiny couch, in his empty house, watching the raunchy sex scene unfold between the two leads. It hadn’t escaped his adolescent brain’s notice that the two leads were a dark haired man and a pretty blonde.

 

“What’s your thesis statement?” Tadashi asks. 

 

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, Tsukki hands him a notebook. The open pages that land in his hands are filled from margin to margin with meticulously organized, colour-coded notes and Tadashi follows the neon trails they make to a block highlighted in the brightest shade of yellow. 

 

“Hope huh?” he murmurs.

 

Tsukki shrugs. “It stands out when you put it in the middle of all the violence and tragedy.”

 

Tadashi looks back to the screen just in time to see the conclusion of the Waltz at the McMichael house, the slow zoom of the camera to the red, angry set of Lucille Sharpe’s shoulders. 

 

“I can’t believe that she’s  _ actually _ his sister.” he mutters.

 

“Wouldn’t be gothic romance without a scandalous fetish in it somewhere.” Tsukki murmurs back, a bit distractedly. He’s typing out some more words in a minimized word document near the bottom of the screen. Impressively, he’s doing it without typos or looking away from the movie at all.

 

“I guess it is kind of sad though. After everything she did, she did still love him.”

 

“Del Toro said she’s a metaphor for the past, and Edith is a metaphor for the future. Thomas Sharpe loved them both, but the past is drowning him in shame and guilt and he was literally in love with the future and in the end that’s what he chose.”

 

A few seconds tick by, bridged together by poignant silence. 

 

“Hope killed him.” Tadashi says eventually.

 

“Or did it set him free?” Tsukki answers without missing a beat. 

 

Tadashi lifts his head to stare at the side of Tsukki’s face, still focused intently on the movie, fingers keeping up a steady rhythm of gentle clicks over the keyboard as he continues to write. The glare of the screen reflects sharply in his glasses and soaks softly into his skin, leaving pale shades along the high slope of his nose, and the arch of his cheeks. 

 

Something pulls sharply in Tadashi’s chest, tender and razor edged at the same time as he sits there, staring at Tsukki and feeling the weight of the last ten years. He imagines that now it might just feel a little lighter than it used to.  

 

“Well...it is kind of beautiful that he was genuinely happy with Edith, even if it didn’t work out for him. That’s so romantic of you Tsukki.”

 

“It’s not my opinion, I’m just interpreting what’s right there in the writing.”

 

“Really.”

 

“I have about five thousand words here to prove it.”

 

Tadashi chuckles and sidles back close, pressing his face into the side of Tsukki’s neck. 

 

==========================

 

The sun is just starting to come up by the time they finally make it to bed, crawling through the gaps in the walls and bleeding through their curtains. Tsukki pulls them as tight as they would go and shutters the blinds while Tadashi peels back the covers from their bed.

 

Neither of them acknowledge the small pile of letters by their bedside, marked with international stamps like a damning brand. The return address stares at them like an accusing ghost. None of them are opened but none of them are damaged; ignored and untouched as all the emails, texts and voice calls had been through the years. 

 

Tadashi gets into bed first, sliding halfway under the covers before reaching into the drawer under the bedside table. He pulls out the ring from the satin case it always gets relocated to before every match and slips it on, sighing at the comforting coolness of sterling silver against his bruised fingers. 

 

Beside him, Tsukki pulls out a battered eyeglass case from under his pillow and swaps out his glasses for the matching ring he keeps in there. Tadashi watches him slip it onto his own finger and feels that tender-sharp hurt again as he lays there, bruised and aching and absolutely content, knowing that it was all worth just watching Tsukki wear that ring.  

 

He hadn’t wanted them in the beginning, claimed they were sentimental and pointless yet he does this, every time without fail. 

 

_ “You were the one who wanted us to wear them, I’ll wear it when you wear yours. And I won’t when you won’t.” _

 

Tsukki had said the one and only time Tadashi asked him about it, a day after the worst fight they ever had. 

 

And Tadashi, heart still as raw as the stitches curving along his side promised him “ _ I’ll make sure to be here after every fight and put mine back on then.” _

 

A light push against his shoulder has Tadashi turning to lie on his side and he sighs when Tsukki fits himself snugly against his back, legs following the curve of his and one arm sliding under his to rest against his chest. Tadashi covers it with his own, broken skin and damp bandages settling over weary joints and veins that are starting to stand out just a bit too much until fingers lock together, silver settling against silver. 

 

“The horror, the horror was for love.” Tadashi finds himself murmuring. 

 

_ The things we do for love like this are ugly, mad, full of sweat and regret. _

 

The first time he’d seen Crimson Peak, he’d interpreted that differently. 

 

Tsukki snorts against the back of his neck, warm, amused. “Am I supposed to be afraid?”

 

Tadashi shrugs as best as he can with Tsukki wrapped around him. “Didn’t you just write over five thousand words, pointing out the hope in that story?”

 

Tsukki’s only answer is a smile, hidden against Tadashi’s skin like a secret. When his fingers squeeze his, Tadashi squeezes back.

 

They fall asleep like that, while the light of a new day rises outside their door.  

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [tsukkibigbitchenergykei](https://tsukkibigbitchenergykei.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> Coincidentally, I finished and posted this the same day that Taiwan legalized same-sex marriage, becoming the first country in Asia to do so and that just makes me feel very :') ya know?


End file.
